


see definitions inexact

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, STILL not over that either, also colin's garlic breath reference, colin can't sleep either but for whole different reasons, intricate description of one's life, my two brain cells decided to have a grind up in the dusty corner of my mind and won't let me sleep, people are doubters and here's how i still feel, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding an equal force is a tedious task, one he only vaguely entertained of attaining long ago; it is not for him. It is <em>beneath</em> him.  His scintillating mind is no longer plagued by the outcome of this unsatisfying dance, he moves alone, always alone, lending himself to others for a foxtrot or two, but he sits it out during the waltz.</p><p>When it happened, it, naturally, caught him off guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see definitions inexact

~  gorgeous [art](http://brolinskeep.tumblr.com/post/96634565666/s-e-e-d-e-f-i-n-i-t-i-o-n-s-i-n-e-x-a-c-t) by the one and only [brolinskeep](brolinskeep.tumblr.com)   ~

 

 

He is a beating heart.

 

He is the ultraviolet in the rainbow, the unyielding link in a chain, the sharpest blade of grass in the field. He is unstoppable; unrelenting might, unexpected from someone so sinewy and ethereal, underestimated and under-valued, and this is where his deadliness comes from. Deep within, there is his earth-like core, blazing hot and incredibly vast, spinning and creating his own field of magnetism.

 

He's aware of it. And slowly, one by one, others are tuning in too.

 

Life is slow when he stops and wonders, and flies by when he lets its course to take him in with the flow. People come and go and when there is way more of going than arriving, he's not surprised. Finding an equal force is a tedious task, one he only vaguely entertained of attaining long ago; it is not for him. It is _beneath_ him. His scintillating mind is no longer plagued by the outcome of this unsatisfying dance, he moves alone, always alone, lending himself to others for a foxtrot or two, but he sits it out during the waltz. He won't engage in it with anyone but the person who alights the cells in his body into luminous iridescence.

He isn't bothered by the absence. When it happens, he'll _know_.

 

It takes peculiar kind of people , people like him, to react so calmly to something that the society deems so grand. The cinemas are full of it, stale, unfunny romantic comedies that leave a strange taste in your mouth afterwards. He snorts derisively at them, and watches a gory horror film instead. _Much_ more satisfying. The protagonist is all fake teeth and botox lips here as well, but you can't have everything.

 

The last bit was nearly what made him give up on the movie industry before it even began. What was sincere in it was quickly deftly doused under a script of mediocrity and a million dollar advertisement. People didn't smile with their eyes anymore, and people didn't fight with their hearts in it, empty curses and promises of something horrific, and he finds it unacceptable. It put him off so much he was, for once in his life at a loss for action without further instruction, and he wandered about helplessly, clinging to people, waiting for them to hand him a manual on how to do this properly.

 

This was the only time in his life he was so deeply appalled with himself it nearly sent him into another crisis. He was a rock, worthy of a dinosaur fossil, a tsunami that reshaped the earth, the one lightning in the cloud that hit home.

So he hardened up, and there were no more mistakes after that. Lovers not taken for granted, or considered meritable, it was rewarding for the fast relief of the flesh, but not the soul. He let them think they have a shot, and entertain him, when he knew, first moment onwards, that they didn't spark the flame. And he wouldn't settle for nothing less than wicked hellfire. He didn't toy with them, and most of them understood this is their once-in-a-lifetime offer to grasp at something that burns your fingertips but makes you ache for the heat. And most of them fell into it like relapsing addicts.

 

He knew he appears cold, secluded, possibly aloof with the air of someone who knows this is his right, but also as someone who is more than just a little bit terrified of his own magnificence. There were times when his secretly kept and nurtured soft, pleasant air that smelled like candy seeped through, just enough to lure people in and reveal to them he was worthy of loving, lethal in his sweet delicacy, and so delightful in his destruction.

 

When it happened, it, naturally, caught him off guard.

 

The was the second, and _last_ , if he had any say in this, time he was shaken out of his solidity that was his character. It was unnerving, highly unpleasant and toxic to a point he stumbled around gasping and wondering if this is maybe the greatest thing he's ever experienced. The carnage of emotions that battled inside was shattering him, turning him inside out, exposing vulnerable flesh he wasn't yet ready to put under the butcher's knife. But it was delectable, this _pulsing_ through his whole being, the solar flare he was exposed to gnawed at his protective field, and for what felt like an eon, all he could see were northern lights. Who would have thought that ice cream, of all things, a perfect balm for soothing this heat, was his final undoing?

 _Oh_ , he whispered. _What took you so long?_

 

The past is an odd place, Colin muses.

The fire was content, purring under his skin, sometimes roaring with hunger, sometimes lashing out in jealousy, other times sensually whispering through, skin on skin, to covet and adore, rave in recognition and approving the tribute.

A heavy, grounding arm was weighing him down, and it was the only way he still knew how to exist.

 

 _Go back to sleep_ , a puff of murmur reached out and found his ears, leaving a feathery tingle in its wake. His life was so much easier when he was unwhole.

But it was also breaking him.

 

 _Can't_ , he rasps back.

_Why._

_You ate so much cinnamon I can't breathe._

_Garlic payback time_.

 

It's only fitting they took vacation in the one place where the fever matches their own.


End file.
